The Broken Bird Learns to Fly
by The 0dd 0ne
Summary: Run, run, as fast as you can, you're still damned. /or/ She has so many issues, so many scars that won't heal. He is so fucked up, so doomed his final destination is uncontrollable. People like them run-they survive. But she needs to learn to fly. Someone like him, who lies & fights, couldn't possibly teach her. But their options are limited with her best friend missing. AU R
1. THERAPY

PROLOGUE

Therapy

_My ship went down_  
_In a sea of sound._  
_When I woke up alone I had everything:_  
_A handful of moments I wished I could change_  
_And a tongue like a nightmare that cut like a blade._

_In a city of fools,_  
_I was careful and cool,_  
_But they tore me apart like a hurricane..._  
_A handful of moments I wished I could change_  
_But I was carried away. - All Time Low - "Therapy"_

Patricia Williamson was a girl with a short fuse. She was known for her revenge and her ability to insult people. Most people knew not to get on her bad side less they wish to have some liquid poured upon their head. What few people knew was that scars aligned her left arm. Neatly cut in slim lines that never delved too deep. She had always been fortunate enough to have hands like a surgeon's, so even when she first began cutting, the line had not been jagged but almost perfect. But not quite. Nothing she did was ever perfect. No matter how much time and effort spent, it isn'y good enough. Because she isn't Piper. Piper is her twin. Piper is perfect. She is obviously the favored child. Honor student, diligent, smart, talented, kind, reliable. Perfect. And Patricia _hated_ it. She was tossed aside and left to fend for herself in a cruel world at the age of 11. Sent to a damned boarding school. Walking alone in the rain. That's why she was independent, unlike Piper. She had always been on her own. Well, she had Joy Mercer and Fabian Rutter. Midget and Stutter Rutter as they would forever be known to the boy she'd known since 5. The boy who was practically her brother. They even looked something alike. He had auburn hair too, but with blonde highlights that gradually darkened over the years. His vivid eyes, while mainly emerald, were outlined by the same blue that colored hers and his pupils were outlined by a green-blue. They shared an identical devil's smirk. His name is Nathanial Martin. A.K.A. Nathan. Or Nate. To some he is Nate. To her he is Doofus. It matches his stupidity, according to her. To him she is Hag. It matches her grumpiness and how old she apparently is, which is weird since he is actually older than her.

Well, here she sits in therapy. Patricia Williamson has been found out. By Piper. Of course it would be Piper to find her cutting. Brilliant Piper. Talented Piper. Loveable Piper. Sweet Piper. Wonderful Piper. Heroic Piper. That would be added to the list now. Woop-dee-bloody-doo. As if Piper needed another reason to be praised. What about Patricia? Lonely, mean, sarcastic, irritable, rude Patricia. Flawed Patricia. The twin that was cutting herself only a month ago. The imperfect one. The unloved one.

**PATRICIA**

_This is stupid. They're stupid. These weasel's think I'm some sob story. Well I'm not. I don't need their pity. I don't need anyone's pity. Just keep your damn pity to yourself. I mean really, I cut myself, I didn't try to kill myself. Doofus talked me out of that before I even started cutting. Ugh, this seat is uncomfortable. This is all Piper's fault. Stupid Piper. _I adjust my arse's position_. This is the last damn day, how much long do I have to wait?_

I tap my foot against the pale tiles as I click my tongue. Boredom has embraced me, great. Just great. I hate everything about this room. The boring, white tile floor, the dull gray walls, the plastic chairs, the wooden desks, and the ceiling fan. It's all ugly and boring...

Like me.

_1 WEEK LATER..._

"Joy?" I hesitantly ask. I haven't contacted her in over a month. Will she be angry? Hopefully not. I really don't want to have to explain it to her. It was miserable enough going through that bloody rehab/therapy thing and talking about it. You know, my room was searched and stripped of all things sharp. Even my nail clippers got stored into some box. The nail clippers. They took my bloody nail clippers. What the hell?

"Patricia! You disappeared off the face of the Earth for a month! Where have you been? OMG, did you finally get a boyfriend? Is that why you've been ignoring me all month?" Mercer, you ask way too many questions.

"What? A boyfriend? Have you forgotten that I terrify boys? The only one's that talk to me are Doofus, Stutter Rutter, my dad, and teachers. And they have to. Well, Doofus and Fabian don't, but one's an idiot and the other's your crush. And what do you mean 'finally'? Oh, and I haven't been ignoring you, I've been really busy, that's all."

"Aw, I was hoping you'd finally gotten a boyfriend. We could double date - you and your man, me and Fabes."

"I wasn't aware you and Fabian were dating in the first place. And besides, you can do the double date thing with Piper and Doofus."

"We aren't, yet. And I totes should!"

"Yeah..." I hate when she says 'totes'. It's so stupid. It's worse when Amber says it, because Amber is Amber and we expect that of her. By Amber, I mean Amber Millington, girly, rich, fashion obsessed, typical teenage girl Amber. Yeah, _that_ Amber. We've known each other since we were eleven. Some people might say we're close friends. They may or may not be right.

"Anyways, we have to hang out soon. Preferably before summer's end so we can head to the water park. This time, you will wear a bikini or I swear I'll make you go on a date."

"What!? You're worse than Piper! Actually, no. She'd make me wear a pink little thing that can barely be called a bathing suit and go on the date, so, you're better than Piper, and you better stay that way." Oh god. If I wear a bikini, my arms will be on display. People will see my scars. They'll know I used to cut. "...C-can I wear a jacket of some sort?" I ask, softly.

"C'mon, Patricia. You'll be fine. I'm sure we can at least get you a boy's number there. If you've gotten sun burnt, bruised, cut, or whatever, just wear waterproof concealer over it. It'll be alright, Trixie." Joy urges me to go.  
Concealer, huh? Alright, but under some long sleeve jacket. Thank god I only ever cut my arm. "...Fine." I agree, only to hear her squeal in delight. "But only if I get to wear the jacket, I won't be comfortable otherwise. We go in 3 days, got it?"

"Of course, Patricia!" Joy squeals a little more. I swear, if she wasn't my best friend...

Well, if you ask me, she needs way more therapy than me. Therapy. Something I absolutely hate. Therapy. A kid's worst nightmare. When everyone's telling me I'm a walking disaster when all I need is the hugs that will cause me to break down. The hugs I've always repelled. Freaking. Therapy. One of the things I need.


	2. ISSUES

CHAPTER 1  
Issues

_I'm consciously unconscious_  
_Why am I filled with hate?_  
_I'd like to blame my parents_  
_I'm sure you'd do the same_  
_Swallow the hurt_  
_Spit out the jerk that's too afraid_

_I turn the page_  
_To a chapter that they thought was just a phase_  
_But it consumed me_

_You're right I am a failure_  
_And when my life turns to shit_  
_It won't have anything to do with the fact that it's all you ever taught me how to do_  
_So you can relax!_ - Sick Puppies - "Issues"

Christ. Why had she agreed to this? Now Joy, tiny Joy, was dragging her, tough Patricia, across the mall. To pick out a bikini. They'd just bought waterproof concealer that matched her pale underarm. And the cover up jacket thingy. The jacket was a plaid one. Red and white. It reminds her of the blood in thin lines that had been upon her pale flesh. The hope. The stories. The relief. The sick, twisted relief.

**PATRICIA**

"Joy! Slow down. We'll get there when we get there! Just quit dragging me!" I complain.

"Alright, alright. But I get to pick the bikini, right?" She bargains with me.

"No pink?" I tentatively ask.

"...Fine." She sighs after a moment of thought.

"No frills, no lace, no flowers, no weirdo patterns." I add some conditions.

"What do you mean no weirdo patterns? You're always wearing leggings with weird patterns!" She argues.

"Shut up and go with it." I tell her. Don't argue with me or you will end up with embarrassment and pain.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat.

We walk on to the stupid store. When we arrive, she takes an hour picking out a bathing suit for me. No, seriously. It takes her an hour. I'm used my watch to check. It should not take that long, she knows my sizes and what I won't stand for and what I won't.

She finally picks out a bathing suit for me, she squeals, tells me to try it on, and squeals once more before Amber calls her. They then rapidly squeal about stuff as I change. I slide out of my football shorts (not American football) and pull off my long sleeved graphic shirt and glare at the 2 piece bathing suit. She picked out a navy blue one with small, white polka dots and a pink lining. The brand's Xhilaration or something stupid like that. She says I can wear my board shorts though. I'm thinking of wearing the plaid ones with a black base and red lines. It'll go nicely with the coverup jacket I bought.

"It fits." I weakly call from the dressing room to Joy whose probably done squealing with Amber. Oh God, this is not going to be fun.

"Yaaay!" More squealing. Really Joy?

"But what about the pink thing!?"

"Crossed fingers, Trixie."

"The polka dots? Weird patterns!"

"They're not weird."

"Bu - you... Gah! Fine. But you're paying for it."

"Whatever!"

After we grabbed a little lunch at the mall, Joy dragged me to the movies, flashing her shiny, new credit card. I'm surprised she got one considering how much she loves to shop, especially when she's with Millington. I'm not even sure what movie we saw, I was to busy dreading tomorrow and discretely listening to Sick Puppies as they're amazing. "So, Patricia," she begins with an 'I-want-you-to-do-this-for-me' tone.

"No." I reject, not wanting to know what it is.

"Please!" She gives me the puppy-dog eyes and I force my eyes in the other direction. _Do not give in and do her bidding_. I scold myself.

"No." I repeat, less firmly.

"C'mon, you want a boyfriend eventually, right?"

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, Joy." I warn her not to continue. Then I hail a cab.

_THE NEXT DAY..._

Did I mention that God hates me? No? Well he does. Why else would my best friend be dragging me to the stupid water park while I'm stuck in a ridiculous bathing suit with only a thin jacket and waterproof concealer to cover my scars? At least he allowed me board shorts and sunglasses. But, something makes this situation a billion times worse. Feet. Bare feet. Everywhere. Oh, God. I'll be honest... I'm a little... scared of feet. It... I don't wanna talk about it.

"Hurry up, Trixie! I want to go on the Lazy River!" Joy chirps like a child. Jeez.

"Alright, alright." I groan. She squeals a little and sinks her claws into my wrist, dragging me to the Lazy River thing.

It wasn't all bad, I guess. So far, so good. It's been fun and I'm soaked, but the concealer is doing its job.

"So, you seem to be having fun, Patricia." Joy teasingly nudges me.

"Alright, alright. It hasn't been terrible." I laugh a little as Joy squeals in victory. "But."

"Oh no." Joy groans.

"But - and this is absolute - if you ever make me wear stings for clothes again, I will Patricia you." I warn her. Now, being Patricia'd, as those of us in Anubis House call and define it, is to have some liquid poured onto you by someone who is not happy with you. At all.

"Fine." She groans. "Anyways, about the boyfriend thing - "

Then, the worst possible thing happens. I run into someone. Or they collide with me. They feel rather solid and muscular. Sturdy and rough. Bare and large. Male. Very male. Shit. I step back and bring a hand to rub my head. Ow. That kinda hurt.

"Would you look where you're going?" I snap. Irritable and not wanting to admit that I messed up too. I hate pointing out my own mistakes. Why am I the only one who ever seems to make them? Stupid, perfect Piper.

"Hey, it's not my fault your short!" He retorts. _Short? Me. Short?_ No. I am not short. I just loose 2 or 3 inches without heels... and you're tall.

"Excuse me? I know Americans aren't exactly smart, but I'm not short. You're just tall. Got it, slimeball?"

"Wow, denial much? And for the record, you Brits aren't exactly geniuses either, Hermione." Oh, Blondie wants to argue, huh?

"Okay, listen, slimeball, I don't need a patronizing American whose only connection to England is Harry Potter. And I am not in denial, blondie, I. Am. Not. Short. Do you understand?"

"Wow, someone likes to talk. They should call you Blabs or something." He chuckles. _Ass_. Hole.

"At least my brain isn't equivalent to a yack's, Slimeball." I snap, slimeball suddenly becoming his name for all I care.

"Yacker! That's it. I'll call you 'Yacker'." Slimeball grins.

"That is not my name, Slimeball." I grind out, glaring directly into the cockroaches eyes.

"And Slimeball isn't my name. It's Eddie." He sighs, attempting a jab at normal conversation.

"Eddie Krueger." I bitterly grumble.

"It's Freddie Krueger." He chuckles.

"Whatever, nightmare." I roll my eyes and self-consciously secure my crossed arms when his eyes flicker down.

"What about your name, Yacker?" He slaps on a charming smile that's meant to be sincere, but I see through it. _So Slimeball's a player, hm?_

"I don't want to tell you that, so, goodbye." I sarcastically wave, grabbing Joy and steering her away from Slimeball.

**EDDIE**  
_Wow, Yacker's got issues, I'll bet she blames her parents for them like I do. She's kind of cute though. It's a shame she doesn't come with a zipper for her lips. Well, there are other ways I could shut her up. Too bad I'll probably never see her again. Hm? Maybe I will, if this is what I think it is_. A mischievous smirk playfully spreads over my crooked mouth._ This is an awfully important item, Yacker_. I tuck the metallic, black rectangular box of circuits into my trunk's waist band. Believe me, this is too good.

I can't believe she dropped her iPhone.

**_The first review gets the only preview._**


	3. YOU'RE GOING DOWN

CHAPTER 2

You're Going Down

_Define your meaning of war_  
_To me it's what we do when we're bored_  
_I feel the heat comin' off of the blacktop_  
_And it makes me want it more_  
_Because I'm hyped up out of control_  
_If it's a fight, I'm ready to go_  
_I wouldn't put my money on the other guy_  
_If you know what I know that I know_

_It's been a long time coming_  
_And the table's turned around_  
_'Cause one of us is going_  
_One of us is going down_  
_I'm not running,_  
_It's a little different now_  
_'Cause one of us is going_  
_One of us is going down_ - Sick Puppies - "You're Going Down"

Two teenage girls laugh as they nudge each other on their way out of a water park. Their practically drunk off of stupid, girly things Patricia shouldn't like. Shouldn't care for, shouldn't enjoy. But she does. Even though she knows better than to be so careless and joyful. Her best friend just brings it out of her. She knows she shouldn't have ever allowed herself to become so attached to the brunette, but she learned that lesson far too late. Joy was already far beyond reach of Patricia's defenses. They hadn't been properly set up at that point. Now, she is laughing, stumbling, and beaming with her best friend. All walls could come down while she enjoys herself. Even if she has a terrible, nagging feeling that something was off. That things were perfect. Too perfect. _Piper_ perfect. She feels like something was about to go terribly, horribly, miserably, _tragically_ wrong.

And damn is she right.

**EDDIE**

I can feel my devil's smirk teasingly spread across my lips. This is too good. My eyes are locked on the phone. I managed to crack her pass code after a while. It's weird, but her pass code is my birthday. Strange, right? Anyways, she has good taste in music. Sick Puppies, All Time Low, Sleeping With Sirens, Green Day, Breaking Benjamin. All great bands. I put a little present in her contacts after sifting through them and choosing who to call around the time she should realize this is missing. Apparently, the short brunette she was hanging out with is Joy Mercer, probably her best friend. There's this guy she has under Doofus who looks like he could be her brother whose the alternative contact to call if Mercer doesn't pick up.  
"Edison, dinner will be ready soon!" I hear the accent of _him_. Of Dad - no, he doesn't deserve to be called that, Eddie.  
"Alright!" I call back. Damn, damn, damn. I hate this.

**PATRICIA**  
This is terrible. This is very bad. Why didn't I check for my phone before we left? Oh God, I'm so screwed if Mum and Dad find out I lost it.

"Calm down, Patricia. We'll find it. We know where you lost it. They have a lost and found!" Joy continues offering bits of hope.

"Joy! If my parents find out I lost my phone, I'm dead!" I argue.

"C'mon, Trixie. We can find it - would you stop pacing!? It's _never_ good when you pa - " Joy's cut off by her phone. Sheepishly, she pulls it out. "What? This says it's... you." She says, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Speaker phone." I spit out.

"H-hello?" She asks, tentatively.

"Hey, Mercer." Oh no. God. No. Not him. Not...

"Slimeball." I growl.

"Bingo, Yacker. Or should I say, Patricia?" He taunts me. _Damn it._

"Shut it, Cockroach." I snap_._

"Ya know, you've got good taste in music."

"No duh." I roll my eyes.

"Anyways, you want your phone back, correct?" He asks, voice haughty and mocking.

"Yes." I grind out, voice full of hate and bitterness.

"Well, we'll have to arrange a meeting place and time, Princess." He laughs.

"What the hell did you just call me, Kruger?" I demand.

"Prin. Cess." He sounds it out just to piss me off.

"Go to hell." I command.

"I guess you don't want your phone back then." He pulls out his ace.

"Wait. I do... I'm..." I hesitate. "I'msorry..." I jumble my words together in embarrassment. Hey, swallowing your pride is embarrassing.

"What was that, Yacker?" He teases, pushing his damned luck.

"I said... I'm... sorry..." I try not to curse him out, I can do that when I get my phone back.

"Good girl." He mocks me a little more.

"Die." I grumble, too quiet for him to hear properly.

"...So, where and when?" He chooses to ignore whatever he thinks he heard.

"Do you know that diner near the water park?" Joy butts in - wait, diner? No. Patricia Williamson doesn't do restaurants.

"Yeah, when?" He responds.

"Tomorrow, lunch?" Joy offers, shooting me the puppy dog eyes.

"Works for me." Slimeball agrees.

"Um, no! I don't do restaurants, Joy." I indignantly huff out.

"Now you do." She states.

"What?! Why?!" I demand.

"Because you want an oyfriend-bay, right?" She suggestively wiggles her eyebrows as she says 'oyfriend-bay'.

"Why are you - " I try to reason with her.

"You said we'd talk about it later and now's later." She flat-out jabs me to add to her strict tone.

"Not when Slimeball's on the phone!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in disbelief.

"Fine. Bye, Eddie." She chirps into the mouthpiece.

"Bye, Joy." He says. Oh, I can _hear_ his smirk.

"Well, Trixie?" Joy prompts me.

"Ugh. Good riddance, Slimeball." I roll my eyes, hanging up for her.

She beams her bubbly smile, white teeth peaking out from behind glossy lips. Her brown eyes shine with excitement and are coated by anxiousness, my reaction is uncertain because of my perfected poker face. Her freshly filed and manicured nails tap against her phone, an old habit. Her dangling feet restlessly twirl from inside their socks, she knows to still them as much as possible since feet freak me out, bare or not. Her small shoulders gently sway from their stiffened position, she's so happy she wants to throw her arms up in the air. I count to 4. She squeals. Right on cue. Just like always.

"I don't like him, Joy." I softly say. I love her too much to be harsh about this. She just wants to find me a boyfriend so I can be happy. I know that.

"But you two have chemistry." She counters.

"You call insulting and mocking each other chemistry?" I ask.

"Belligerent sexual tension. Ever heard of it?" She questions.

I cringe. I hate when she has good arguments. If you ever tell her I just admitted she SOME TIMES has decent arguments, I will maim you and embarrass you. Publicly. "Yeah." I mumble. "But Weasel and I don't have it!" I retaliate.

"Denial~" She says in a singsong voice.

"Shut it before I smack you." I warn her.

"Alright, I just need to call Ambs real quick." She beams her bubbly smile. How is she my best friend?

I wave to her before exiting her room and house.

**EDDIE**

I stare at her phone. That was... an interesting conversation with Yacker and Joy. I wrap my fingers around a plastic cup and let the fizzy liquid through my parted lips like the addicting acid touch of Yacker that drew me in. Huh, aren't I poetic today? Ah, sarcasm, I love you so.

The glint of metallic silver catches my eye. Razor blade. Damn it, why is it so compelling? C'mon, Miller, focus. You fight and flirt. That's how you relieve yourself. Not through cutting. That's running away. Quitting. Losing. I don't lose. I won't. I don't give a damn how much things hurt, I won't surrender. I'd rather get shot down.

**PATRICIA**

"I'm home." I call into the almost empty house. I trudge upstairs, to me and Piper's bedroom. I glare at my charger before plopping down onto my bed in a pair of boxer shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, free to bare my arms to the walls. They can't judge me. I give my charger one last glare before closing my eyes and embracing darkness.

_Slimeball, you're going down._

_**The first review gets the only preview.**_


	4. SO WHAT I LIED

CHAPTER 3

SO WHAT I LIED

_I did my best to try and be  
A mirror of society  
But we both know the mirror's cracked  
And everybody's in the act  
Faking what they cannot feel  
Hoping they can make it real  
Reality is killing me _- So What I Lied - Sick Puppies

Her pink tongue traces smooth lips. The taste of artificial watermelon glides upon her taste buds. The pink, glossy tinge is erased. Her thin fingers wrap around the small blade. Clammy palms are gently pushed into a slim red pocket knife. A hidden gift, the pocket knife Nate got her for my 12th birthday since they were going camping soon. The blade that first broke skin. The roots of her addiction. The one thing she 'forgot' to mention. After all, _always_ have a way out of every situation. A backdoor. A cool breath is released through full lips. To be, or not to be a cutter. A sinner. Again.

To feel, or not to feel the relief. The addiction.

Should she, or shouldn't she?

**PATRICIA**

I sigh and fall back onto the bed. My auburn hair sprawls out, the blade falls out of my grasp and onto the mattress. I glare up at the black ceiling. My stereo blasts Sick Puppies into the room. My World is blaring, echoing in the room.

Everything hurts. I wish I was numb. My fingers wrap around the remote and I change the song to Numb by Linkin Parks.

I have to face Slimeball again. I have to tell Joy about everything. Why I don't want a boyfriend. That I cut for 4 years. How I've never kissed anyone. How I've never liked anyone. How I was almost... No. _That_ can wait. I don't want to think about _that bastard._

I hear the click of the door handle being turned. I react quickly. My reflexes aren't as quick as they used to be, but they're still quick. The knife is stuffed back into the abyss of my pocket.

"Hey, Trixie. Do you want to catch a movie?" Piper. Lovely, kind, polite Piper. My sister.

"Not now, Piper. I'm busy." I snap. Inwardly, I cringe. She's my sister, I love her, really. But... I can't help but want to hate her for... _everything_.

"Has Joy tried to set you up with someone? You seem awfully cranky, Trish." Piper chuckles, a dainty hand on her hip and a playful smile on her lips. When she acts like this... it feels weird. I mean, we're identical, it's like seeing myself smiling and polite.

"Shut up." I groan at the memory.

"I'll take that as a yes." She smiles, trotting to my bedside before plopping down next to me. "C'mon, what's really bugging you, Trix?"

I sigh. Piper's so charismatic and kind, I can't help but spill a bit of my guts. "It's just, Joy and I ran into some slimeball at the water park and he has my phone. Now Joy's making me go to a restaurant to get my phone from the weasel." I bury my head in her lap.

"Aw, it's alright, Patricia." She soothes, gently petting my head.

"No it's not! I'm Patricia Williamson. I don't do restaurants!" I exclaim, lifting my head to glare at her.

"Now you do." She cheekily comments.

"Now you sound like Joy!" I groan.

"Is that a bad thing? I mean, she's your best friend..." Yeah, my best friend who sucks.

"Ya know what? Let's catch that movie and hit the mall. I need some new stuff." I hastily change the subject.

"Yay?" She questions.

"C'mon, Pipes." I ignore her confusion and grab her.

"Why do you sound Nate?" There's some strange underlining in her tone - longing?

"I don't know. I haven't seen Doofus all summer." I shrug, dragging her out the door.

* * *

"Trixie, this'll look great on you!" She grins playfully, holding up a repulsive dress.

"I think it's more you, Piper." I shudder and laugh slightly. Hanging out with Piper like this puts me at ease... but, I can't help but get this sick feeling in my stomach. Something's going to wrong. Because something _always_ goes wrong. I fidget slightly, this happy atmosphere puts me on edge. Hanging out with Piper isn't quite the same as with Joy or Doofus, because there's a rift between me and Piper.

A long, happier time ago, that rift didn't exist. 5 years ago, we were extremely close. 5 years ago, my group of intimate friends consisted of me, the ever sarcastic rebel, Doofus, the witty troublemaker with a happy facade, Joy, the lovable and small gossip, and Piper, the talented, brilliant, _perfect_ one. Then, we all watched out for each other and were as close as siblings - which was true for Piper and I. The only rift back then, was between Doofus and Piper. And that was because they were always too fond of each other, too fond to be like siblings. But that didn't stop us from being such good friends.

Now, Piper and I have outgrown each other a little. It all started when we were 11. We were shipped off to separate schools. Then, she was so busy with schoolwork that she could barely text or call. Then, we grew apart. And honestly, _that's_ why I hate her. Not because of how perfect she is, but because she left me. Like everyone does. But with her, it really hurt. Because we have what's meant to be an unbreakable bond. We share blood. DNA, looks, parents, birthday, room. But I know it was unavoidable. Because, at some point or another, everyone leaves you. Everyone hurts you at times. I like to have a backdoor to escape, so I can leave them before they leave me. So I can avoid being hurt. I know when to hightail it out of there. I know when to leave. I know who to push away, who to not let in. I know who to trust. And that small list of people I trust, shouldn't include _anyone._

_But it does. _A small voice reminds me. _It includes 3 people. And sometimes 4._ It includes Doofus, Joy, and Rutter. And sometimes, Piper. Notice how _I'm_ not on the list. How I don't trust myself.

Never mind that, it depresses me. Actually, it makes me go numb. And I hate going numb. As much as I want to at times, being numb is a horrible pain. Not feeling, not caring, not hurting, not being human. I hate it. Cutting makes it go away. When I go numb, I cut. I feel. I care. I hurt. I return to being human.

Right now, right now I want to cut. _Need _to cut. Because I can't go back to trying to be a mirror of society. Right now, I need my iPhone. I need to vent. I need to hear Sick Puppies. I need to feel. I need to break.

So I do.

My dam breaks. My walls cave. I erupt. I lash out on Piper. I lash out on someone I love.

"Why would you even pick out something like that for me? It's not funny." I snap at her, needing to make it about something.

"B... s-sorry, Trixie, I didn't know..." She sadly tries to apologize. She makes hurting her, hurt me.

"_Sorry_? You have so much to be sorry for!" My eyes burn and I wish I could cry. But I can't.

"Patricia, I never meant to..." In her eyes - in _my_ eyes, she's dying. Her vision must be beginning to blur, tears are forming. She's like a kicked puppy.

"Of course you never meant to. _No one_ ever means to." I snarl at her, breaking. Breaking. Broken. I'm already so broken.

"Patricia, please. We're sisters..." She looks into my eyes, hopefully. But she meets a cold, broken sight.

"You sure forget about that during school. Not a single text or letter. Ever!" I cruelly scoff at the thought. _I'm so, so sorry, Piper._

"Trixie, I - I get so busy, I really... r-really want to... to write..." Her face is blotchy and tears stain the ground.

"You _want_ to? Quit faking what you don't feel! Stop with hoping you'll make it happen! You're just another actor in society!" I scream. She has no response to this. No words form as she opens her mouth. So I finish her off. "You know, I tried to fit in with society. I tried to trust. I tried to love. Because you're my twin, I thought I could trust and love you. I thought I could give you the means to killing me inside and that you wouldn't use it against me. I thought wrong."

* * *

I don't come home after I leave. I hide. I go anywhere but home. I walk and I walk. I cut myself. I don't stop the bleeding. I don't treat it. I let the blood flow under my sleeve. I hate myself. I won't cut again. Then I think to myself,_ look. You're lying... No. So what if I've lied?_


	5. I WILL NOT BOW

CHAPTER 4

I WILL NOT BOW

_Now the dark begins to rise_  
_Save your breath it's far from over_  
_Leave the lost and dead behind_  
_Now's your chance to run for cover_  
_I don't want to change the world_  
_I just want to leave it colder_  
_Light the fuse and burn it up_  
_Take the path that leads to nowhere_  
_All is lost again, but I'm not giving in_

_I will not bow, I will not break_  
_I will shut the world away_  
_I will not fall, I will not fade_  
_I will take your breath away -_ I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin

A tall, thin teenage boy angrily storms down the pavement. His headphones drown out the surrounding world. _Survive_ blares into his eardrums, echoing off his soul and vibrating in his scars. Nathanial Martin glares into the darkness, thoughts of his twin sister coming to England long gone. Yes, his sister, whom he hasn't seen since 4, may come from America, their birthplace, to England. But that cannot distract the pain of finding out that she was kept from him for all these years. He had vaguely recalled blonde hair and a pretty smile, a feeling of protectiveness, before. But Patricia and Joy had become his little sisters. Patricia, who is walking up the sidewalk...

He jogs towards her, the urge to vent to someone compelling him. Then he sees something he hasn't seen in 7 years. Patricia is crying.

NATHAN

I stumble over the cement in shock. Christ, Patricia is crying. Even blotchy, she's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. _What do you expect? She and Piper are identical._ A small voice pipes up, oblivious to Patricia's pain. Through her sleeve, I see crimson. I see her tight grip around a small pocket knife. The pocket knife I gave her. And then, I feel a sword push through me, as if I'm a ghost. I rip the knife from her grip and embrace her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She whispers apologies through wretches. I hug her tightly, ignoring my own pain.

"Stop doing this to yourself, please." I plead to her, pulling away and holding her bleeding arm. I pull out my trusty first aid kit and gingerly pull her sleeve back. I cringe at the sight of her scars and the fresh cuts. I take a baby wipe and delicately wipe her arm off. "Shh, shh." I gently whisper to stop her whimpers of regret. I quickly coat a roll of gauze with Neosporn, using my nimble fingers to my advantage. Carefully, I wrap her fresh cuts as we both learned how to do - expertly. Well, _years_ of cutting and treating the wounds will make you an expert.

When I've finished wrapping the wound, I watch her furiously blink. No tears. No tears. No tears. Her thought process is something like that. And honestly, it terrifies me. That she thinks she has to pretend to be strong like this. That people believe it. That we both know how weak she really is. I hate how she doesn't trust people, but I know how bad she's been hurt and every time I think about that... I want to hurt the people who have hurt her the way they deserve to be hurt. Some times, I even want to hurt Piper for hurting Patricia.

Do you blame me though? She's gone and cut herself because of it. Yeah, I can figure out what's wrong just by looking her in the eyes.

"Go ahead." She bitterly laughs, choking on her pain. "Hate me." And for the first time in years, Patricia Williamson breaks down and cries. In my arms.

I whisper comforting lies and remind her that I love her, that she's practically my little sister - no matter how much it hurts to think about little sisters right now.

We both know it's not all right. She's not going to be fine. And I know, the truth hurts. So we run from it. People like Patricia and me, we run. We survive.

* * *

PATRICIA

I sniffle. Breath. In. Out. In. Out. Rapidly, I blink. The feeling of being on the brink of tears fresh in my mind. The memory of the last time I cried, no matter how faded, burning a hole through me. Last time, it was because my parents were screaming at each other. Piper was at a sleepover with some girly lot I couldn't stand so she was saved the feeling of being ripped apart. She didn't hear our parents threatening each other or see Mum grab the knife and hold it to Dad who had hit her. She didn't cry. She didn't discover Sick Puppies and Breaking Benjamin. She didn't promise never to bow to tears.

I will not bow.

I broke that promise today. I kept it for seven years. Exactly.

It was hard not to break at times. For a year, just music was enough to turn emotional pain into anger, defiance. Then, one day, I was on the verge of bowing. So I pulled the hair band around my wrist. Then, I felt something I hadn't felt in a while. Relief. The emotional pain became physical as I yanked the hair band. Each time it dug into my wrist, I felt a little less pain. Then, the red mark healed. And I felt alive.

So, the next time I felt like shit, I burned myself with Mum's hair straightener. For 3 years, I tried different forms of self-harm, then, on my birthday, Doofus gave me a pocket knife. I happened to hurt that day, I always hurt on my birthday, so I cut myself. And even though my eyes stung at the pain and blood stained my clothes, I did not bow. I was relieved. A load came off my shoulders. Cutting became an addiction. A savior. It helped me keep my promise, even at my lowest.

NATHAN

I balance a silver platter with two mugs of hot chocolate in my calloused hands. "Hope you don't want marshmellows, Hag. We're fresh out." I smile reassuringly at her. 'An angel's smile', as Mercy calls it. 'The goody-two-shoes grin' as Trixie labelled it.

"Not really in the mood to have goo in my teeth." She snorts half-heartedly.

"Really? It would disguise your yellow fangs though, Haggy." I chuckle, nudging her as I set the platter down on the coffee table which her feet have so pleasantly taken up to residing upon. "Now, clear your damn feet from Gramps' shiny new old table."

"Yes, Mum." She sarcastically groans. A devil smirk replaces the angel's smile. Ah, Haggy, I love you so. Note the sarcasm.

"And clean you're room while your at it." I adopt her Mum's shrill, uptight voice. She laughs at this and chucks a pillow at me.

* * *

EDDIE

One of my so-called friends passes me a red cup. I cover it with a hand and shake it, adding a white pill that dissolves almost instantly. "Cheers." I dully clink my cup with his. We grin deviously and begin chugging. I win. As usual.

"Your dad would be proud." The stoner of the group drunkenly slurs an insult. I bitterly laugh, unamused. _Yeah, Daddy Sweet would be so. Damn. Proud._ I chug another drink, remembering the lyrics to _I Will Not Bow_ by Breaking Benjamin.

"..." I swish the drink in my mouth. Then I spit it on the grass. "Fuck him."


	6. WEIGHTLESS

CHAPTER 5: WEIGHTLESS

_"I wanna feel weightless_  
_And that should be enough_  
_But I'm stuck in this fucking rut_  
_Waiting on a second hand pick me up_  
_And I'm over, getting older - All Time Low - Weightless"_

**EDDIE**

I stumble through the door, my vision blurred. I see him. 'Dad.' I squint, trying to focus on him through the blurred lines and merging colors. Everything is spinning and my legs aren't able to support my weight. Ugh. Eric is a mass of gray and tan, clouded over by white. My eyes won't focus on him as he comes in & out of my sight, I swear there are two of him. God, I feel sick to my stomach. It's his fault.

"Edison, you're drunk." He says.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." I slur a disrespectful thanks.

"Edison, go to your room and sleep." He commands.

"Fuck you, 'Dad.'" I blink, stumbling over nothing.

"Go to your room, Edison." He blinks, sadness cradling his voice.

"Fuck you..." I drunkenly repeat my defiance.

"Edison. Please." The last thing I see is him stepping towards me. Then all goes black, and I feel myself falling. And for a moment, I'm weightless and I feel absolutely nothing, but I'm flying. Soaring above everyone in the world and nothing matters. I'm lighter than a feather and for once, I am not the center of my universe so nothing is pressed to my shoulders. There is no weight, no burdens for me to hold up by myself. But then, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

**PATRICIA**

I wipe a sliver of drool off the corner of my lips. Ugh. Shit! I fell asleep at Doofus's and Mum and Dad don't know where I am! Oh, God. The things I said to Piper yesterday . . . bloody hell. "Nate," I mumble, shaking him.

"What's wrong, Trixie?" He whispers, groggily blinking himself awake.

"What time is it?" I furrow my eyebrows, sitting up on the couch, searching the room for the remote to turn the TV off. The movie on is rubbish.

"Ugh." He sits up, scratching his head and cracking his neck. He glances at his watch, "10 till lunch." His eyes widen, "I'll phone Joy." I listen to him explain things to Joy, who then phones Krueger. I can't believe I missed the meeting yesterday . . . I feel like crap. When Doofus gets off the phone, he explains everything to me, "It's all right that you missed it yesterday, I explained what happened with Piper to her and she accepted your indirect apology and arranged things with Weasel, who said it was all right, he was completely cool with it. You've gotta get going though, hurry your arse up!" He shoos me into the bathroom where I brush my hair and and teeth. I quickly change into one of the spare outfits I keep at Doofus's, the 4 of us (Joy, Fabian, Doofus, and I) all keep spare clothes at each other's houses specifically for these situations. Thank God.

I get there about 6 minutes late, (Doofus lives close to the water park, but I couldn't get a cab so I had to walk) without applying make up or straightening my hair and overall, I look like crud in my over sized Batman shirt from 6th grade and old pair of skinny jeans. I had to borrow one of Doofus's old hoodies, it must be from about 8th grade, to hide my scars. When I burst into the cafe, I quickly find Joy and Eddie, who's nursing a coffee and looks red in the face.

"Look who's finally here," Joy smiles before giving me a one up, "in Nate's old hoodie and your spare clothes from his?"

"I crashed at his after my row with You-Know-Who," I explain, sitting next to her.

"Who's Nate?" Eddie asks, blinking slightly.

"Doofus is one of our oldest mates, he's like the brother I don't want," I say, "hangover?"

"How'd you know?" He cocks a dirty blonde eyebrow.

"You're drinking coffee, you're a little out of it, you're pale like you feel nauseous, and you still smell like it," I deadpan, waving for a waiter. "I'll have a scone, water to drink."

"Right away, miss," the waiter nods after scribbling down my order.

"So, my phone, Cockroach?" I turn to the tart.

"Right," he gulps, licking his dry lips, "Princess."

"Ugh. At least I'll never have to see you again after this," I roll my eyes, holding a hand out for my phone. He gently places it in my palm, smiling coyly at me. He winks as the waiter returns, placing my scone and water down. I sip the water, surfing through my phone. When I finish skimming my contacts, I bite into my scone.

"Love you too, Patricia," he laughs, smiling tightly at me. Joy covers her mouth, fighting her small fit of giggles. I drop my jaw, staring wide eyed at her. I grab her, yanking her to the side, dunking us behind the menu.

"What? He's funny," she whispers, shrugging.

"Funny? He's an idiot," I breath out, smacking her head.

"Sorry," she scoffs, tossing the menu on the table and feigning a smile at Eddie with me. We return to sitting oh so casually.

"Okay?" He chuckles, sipping his coffee and rubbing his temple.

"So, why were you drinking? Bad influences? Hate your parents?" I ask.

"A little of both. My dad was never there for me, my "friends" here are stoners and criminals," he raises his eyebrows playfully.

"Sounds lovely," I deadpan, sipping my water quietly.

_"Patricia,"_ Joy scolds, giving me a weird 'did you just say that?' look.

"No, she's right," Eddie says, his head bobbing slightly. I give Joy a look, the 'in your face' look. She rolls her eyes. "It's just . . . I don't know. I guess, I wanna feel . . . weightless. Nothing holding me down, no responsibilities, no burdens, just, alive," he explains.

"I get it," I nod, "drugs alcohol, all that crud, it makes you feel like you can breathe - really breathe, like there's nothing wrong with you, like you're good enough . . ." I trail off, my shoulders falling, "like you're infinite." I whisper.

"Wait, Yacker, you get it?" He asks, his eyebrows bunched up in a way that makes him look cute, childishly curious.

"Yeah, I mean, I've never done drugs or alcohol, that's illegal, but, I get it," I quickly cover for my mistake.

"Well, you two can just talk, I'll leave you alone," Joy laughs, smiling coyly.

"If you do I will Patricia you," I warn her, gripping the water glass tighter.

"What? I'm like, the only person in the house you _haven't_ Patricia'd," she whines.

"Which means _you_ haven't been initiated as an Anubis house member," I tell her, smirking.

"Fine," she groans, re-seating herself.

"What's being Patricia'd?" Krueger asks, glancing at both of us.

"Well, since you stole my phone, ran into me, _&_ made me come to a restaurant, I'll show you," I grin maniacally, picking up the water pitcher & casually sauntering over to him. As Joy tells me not to & the Weasel tenses, I dump the water over his head.

"That's being Patricia'd," Joy sighs, following me out of the restaurant.

**JOY**

"Patricia Margret Williamson, you have 5 seconds to tell me why you get what he meant about the weightless thing!" I exclaim the second we're out the diner's door.

"Joy, I . . . I used to cut, okay?" She says, walking quickly.

"What?" I breathe out, my breath catching in my throat. My best friend . . . she . . . she cut herself.

"I cut myself, okay, Joy? That's why I always wear long sleeves, Piper found out & got me sent to therapy, that's what I was busy with this summer, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I should've, I wanted to, but . . . I didn't know how to say it, I didn't want you to think I was a freak," she explains, her eyes shinier than usual.

"Patricia, you . . . I . . . I - "


End file.
